


Kelly's Delivery Service

by freckledFirebrand



Category: Project Wingman (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, F/F, Toilet humor, dumb jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledFirebrand/pseuds/freckledFirebrand
Summary: A firebrand, her tired best friend, and a MG-31BM traveling at almost mach 3 to delivery mercenary mail. What could go wrong, except for a comedy of errors? The title is most definitely not a pun on Kiki's Delivery Service, I swear, and even if it is, they're going to be nothing alike. I hope.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Kelly's Delivery Service

“Kelly.”

Kelly was busy. The voice on the other side of the radio was easy for her to ignore right now. Dual cockpits did that sometimes. She was practically on autopilot, too.

“Kelly, listen up.”

Kelly heard a warning, but with the voice in her ears, she didn’t immediately distinguish it. She was busy. Piddle packs weren’t designed for women.

“Dustmother, Kelly!”

“What!” Kelly snapped back. “I’m pissing!”

They’d just finished refueling, and should, theoretically, be able to run on autopilot for the rest of the flight. She needed to pee.

“We’re radar locked!”

“What the fuck do you mean we’re radar locked, we’re flying over fucking Cascadia! Who the fuck –”

“They’re firing!”

“What the fuck do you mean they’re firing!” Kelly just needed a second longer. A second later, she felt her head – well, her helmet – crack into the canopy as Miekka began the maneuvers without her. Jerking control back, Kelly mumbled – loud enough to make sure that the throat mic picked her up for sure – “Gods, Mikky, gimmie a fucking break. Has anyone been trying to hail us?”

“We still haven’t fixed our long-range.”

“…shit. Did we forget to do that? Any IFF?”

“ _You_ forgot to do that. Federation IFF’s, too.”

“You forgot to remind me! Why the fuck are the Feds intercepting us over Cascadia?”

“It’s your plane. Did you remember to file the flight plan?”

“You’re my assistant! But yes, yes I did!”

“No clue, then. Just fly, Redline.”

The groan, Kelly hoped, was just as audible over the intercom. She knew she should’ve sprung for anything but the piddle packs, but that was money she’d rather have spent elsewhere, such as on ammo, fuel, or _their fucking long-range radio if she’d remembered_. “Should we slow down?”

“We can easily get out of range.”

“Until they send up another batch of interceptors ahead of us, or other thirty-ones.”

“Your call, really.”

“Thanks, Mik,” Kelly groaned. Checking down, they were currently comfortably over the speed of sound, but only by one and a half times. “What’s our cargo again?”

“We’re carrying fuel, mostly, but we’ve also got –”

“Wrong question. Anything that’ll liquify?”

“No.”

Kelly jammed the throttle forwards. “Armament’s just the two usual short-ranges, right?”

“Our infrareds? Yes.”

“Understood. We’ll outrun these guys and dogfight the next set,” Kelly replied with a smirk rising on her face.

“We’re not a dogfighter. They’ll kill us. Easily.”

As Miekka’s voice lingered in her ears, Kelly just blinked as she began to crank the plane back into the bearing they were supposed to be heading. “Dammit,” she murmured. “Why do you gotta kill my fun like that?”

“I’d rather you not get us killed.”

“Killjoy.”

“Yes.”

The whiplash from the sudden acceleration was beginning to fade. They’d lost some altitude in the maneuvering, but as the plane levelled back out, and the radar warning in her ears faded, Kelly brought the plane back into a climb. If she had to guess, they likely would also have a better flight ceiling than most interceptors – at least, that’s what she was hoping for. Fuel consumption was high, but more than enough at this range to get them to their destination just about two hours away. The People’s Democratic Republic of the Federalized Nation-State of Ohio.

Gods, she always hated it there.

* * *

“Kelly.”

“Yeah Mikky?”

“How are we going to hail the tower?”

Kelly had to mute her mic before she let out a stream of profanities that Miekka could still hear. The cockpits were separate, but not noise isolated. Once done, she clicked her mic back on. “Are our deliveries drop-safe?”

“Are you looking to see what a fuel bomb looks like?”

“I already know what they look like,” Kelly mumbled before she let out a loud groan. “Right. I guess we’re going to have to practically buzz the tower.”

“Sounds like the only option we have,” Miekka agreed, her own sigh coming over their comms. “Unless those Ohioan’s send up interceptors themselves.”

“…Should we drop our weapons before we get in range?”

“Those both cost more than this job. One of them costs more than this job.”

“And we seemed to have pissed off the Feddies…” Kelly mumbled. “Wait, do we know it was the Federation that tried to intercept us over Cascadia?”

“Who else would it be? Their national guard, some other delivery corp, or just mercs?”

“I’m just trying to hope that we’re not going to get executed after landing,” Kelly grumbled back.

“At least it’ll be a quick death.”

“Mikky.”

“Yes?”

“Not helping.”

Their comms fell silent once more; Kelly quickly grew bored of staring out at the blank sky. 

“Wait, Mikky. Idea,” Kelly chirped. “What if we land in the Lakes Union instead?”

“Do you have a buyer? And are you okay ruining our reputation?”

“…I didn’t think about that.”

Kelly heard Miekka’s sigh once more. “Of course you didn’t. That’s what you pay me for.”

“You’re a very pretty reminder service, it’s well worth the cost.”

“Please don’t flirt with me after you almost got us killed by trying to use a piddle pack.”

“…How’d you know?”

“You normally try to after we refuel. You also admitted it.”

“Dammit. Stop being so observant.”

“I’d rather not get killed because you weren’t paying attention.”

“Ah, fuck off, Mikky.”

“I could eject.”

“Please don’t. I like having you around.”

“I know.”

* * *

“Y’know what we need?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“A leaflet dispenser!”

“…Kelly, what the fuck?”

“Y’know, in case our radio dies again.”

“Or, instead of buying a leaflet dispenser, maybe we just _buy a better radio_?”

“C’mon, y’know we never use the gun, we could easily tear that out and replace it!”

“If you’re so sure on this stupid idea, why not just leaflet shells instead?”

“Oooh, I like that! We’d be able to shoot our messages at them!” Kelly cackled for a few moments, before a low altitude warning blared in her headset. She _was_ flying rather low.

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s not,” Kelly replied, “but it’s the only way to make it hard for their missile sites to lock onto us. Do we know if this airport has missile sites?”

“It’s a civilian airport, Redline.”

“…Y’didn’t mention that earlier, Samoyed, why?”

“I figured you read the dossier.”

“You _know_ I never read those!”

“Consider this retribution.”

Gently, the plane regained some of the altitude that Kelly had spent the past hour slowly dumping. “I hate you.”

“I _can_ still eject.”

“You won’t, cause you won’t get paid.”

“I’ll sell the missiles you jettison out of fear for profit.”

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Kelly snorted. “Alright. Taking us out of supersonic, we’re going to buzz by in comm range for a bit, then try to set up for landing. That sound good?”

“Roger, Redline.” With Miekka’s approval of the plan, Kelly gently pulled back on the throttle, taking the old airframe gentle. Kelly’s eyes drifted lazily between the speed readout and the skies beyond, and she was grateful for the fact that, this low, clouds actually existed. At eighty thousand feet, they didn’t. It was at least something to look at.

“Uuuh, Samoyed, we might have a problem.”

“More pressing than our radio not working, or the fact that I’m seeing another few planes on our radar now?”

“There’re more planes on our radar?”

“Nothing to worry about. Yet.”

“Keep me updated. This, uh, yeah. Might be more pressing.”

A loud sigh came through. “What is it?”

“I think the afterburner’s stuck.”

“…You think the afterburner is stuck?”

“Yeaaah. We shouldn’t be in it still. Er, in afterburn, that is.”

The fuck that Miekka screamed was loud enough that it rang Kelly’s ears, even without it being amplified right into Kelly’s mind over their comms. “You let the engines runaway!”

“I did no such thing!” Kelly objected. “The do-not-cross-except-for-emergencies tape is still firmly in place! Anyways, if I cut the engines now I can glide us in, and I’ll fix it once we land!”

“Cut them, then,” Miekka ordered, her tone sharp while her temper recomposed.

“No second chances here, then.”

“No easy ones,” Miekka confirmed. Kelly could almost hear her shaking her head. “I’ll be trying to hail all channels for the next hour.”

“It won’t be an _hour_.”

“Exaggeration.”

“How rare from you!” Kelly chimed, but Miekka didn’t respond. Kelly heard her repeated calls through not the radio but the thin metal wall between them, and she started to bring the aircraft up. They were ninety-odd miles away, how much altitude would she need? Shit, she hadn’t memorized the glide ratio. Did it matter?

She killed the engines at thirty thousand. She’d make it work.

Would she? A flicker of doubt crossed Kelly’s face as she glanced out the triangular window besides her.

Yeah. They’d be fine.

* * *

Kelly was used to having guns pointed at her by people from Ohio, but the welcome they got was _excessive_.

Apparently “our radio is broken and only has a ten-mile range” wasn’t a good decision. At least these interceptors hadn’t fired, but now they were staring at a really pissed off military-police-looking fellow. Had the military already taken over the police, or did they just _really_ piss off the wrong people?

Kelly got to stay inside as Miekka talked to the captain. It was likely for the best. She was prone to punching people who deserved a good punch, but she often found herself doing so at the wrong time when she chose to punch said people. The bastard with the white mustache likely bitching out her white-haired partner looked like he could use one.

They attached a tug to Kelly’s airplane, and slowly began to drag her away. She managed to resist the urge to scream wee at low speeds, but she was a bit nervous when Miekka disappeared from site. They weren’t smuggling anything this time, right? Everything was legal?

Gods, she should’ve read that dossier.

If she prayed to Dustmother, would that be okay? She wasn’t Cascadian, but figured if Miekka wasn’t around to hear her likely accidentally make a mockery of her religion, that’d be fine, right?

She wasn’t the only military jet in the hangar they brought her too, but she was definitely in the ugliest one. Two nice-looking F/E-15’s flanked her, and she thinks she spotted a rather nice looking Sk.35 at the end. One day, she mourned, as she popped open her part of the canopy and slid out, ignoring how out of place the battered MG-31BM seemed. Almost immediately, she was flanked by three gruff looking, obviously ex-Feddie, mercs, all glaring down at her. Even at 5’8’’, she was still shorter than the three. For a brief second, there was a tenseness in the air as she stared back, before the merc to her left started to laugh.

“Took you long enough! We were beginning to think you bailed!” he said, with a surprisingly jovial laugh.

“We, ah, had a bit of radio issues,” Kelly explained, bringing up her left arm to the back of her neck as she let out a small chuckle that bordered on awkward. “And afterburner issues. And hostile interceptors over Cascadia issues.”

“Interceptors over Cascadia?” the merc at the right of the trio asked, raising both a quizzical eyebrow and looking in towards the middle merc.

“Yeah, Federation wasn’t happy we were flying over there, I guess, because they didn’t bother us once we crossed the sea and got past Solana.”

“So it’s true,” the one on the left murmured. “We heading to Cascadia next then, boss?”

“If we’ve got fuel to finally get out of this hell-scape of a Federation-knockoff country, then it’ll be the next stop after a proper rearming,” the man in the middle replied. “You’ve got the stuff?”

“Of _course_ I do!” Kelly replied, almost offended. “Three of the conformal body pods should be full of merc-grade jet fuel, and the last… should have…”

Kelly really wished Miekka was here.

“The uniforms? Combat uniforms, male, from AGI?” the right merc offered.

“Yeah, those! Might be a little wrinkled, but nothin’ you can’t iron out. Just don’t touch the wing tanks, I need those still.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, missy,” the middle merc replied. “We’ll go ahead and start syphoning the fuel out, then, and we’ll transfer over the credits when it’s completed. You mind opening up the uniform one for us?”

“Sure thing, I’ll just have to climb back up into my wizzo’s seat for that, though.”

“They usually in charge of it?”

“Nah, they’re usually just the one that knows which pod’s which, I just fly,” Kelly earnestly replied. It got a chuckle out of one of the mercs, at least.

* * *

An hour later and fifteen thousand credits richer, Kelly was left leaning against her plane as she waited for Miekka to show back up. Easy crowd to deal with, she recognized, and she was all the thankful that she didn’t need to make things difficult. They seemed mighty interested in Cascadia, but right now, Kelly was too busy staring skyward and tapping her foot as she tried to mentally calculate just how much profit they made. Registration fees took up a good chunk of that, as did their own fuel costs; she could save a bit on maintenance if she did some of it herself but she’d need a specialist for the radio. The radio being out meant they’d have to spend… about a week in this bureaucratic overly-controlled Ohioan hellscape, likely in a hotel. She wasn’t going to skimp there, so that meant their total profits would be… three thousand credits if they were lucky, but likely a lot closer to two, maybe one and a half if they weren’t lucky. She let out a loud groan; she should’ve just been a normal merc.

“You sound like me,” Miekka flatly snarked, which got Kelly to immediately perk up.

“It’s my favorite radio operator, general planner, and very smart lady!” Kelly chirped with a broad smile, which only got Miekka to roll her eyes at the pilot. “What took you so long?”

“Trying to negotiate our way out of a fine.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Oh shit.”

“A thousand credits.”

“Fuuuuuck.”

“Have you split the funds yet?”

“No,” Kelly answered. “We have enough fuel to get out of here, but we have to wait for a specialist. So… we’ll be bunking up here for a week or so.”

“We’re getting a motel.”

“Are you crazy? That’s how you get shot by a drugged-up Ohioan, Mikky! Nice hotel.”

“We won’t have any profit if we do.”

“We deserve nice beds.”

Miekka’s sigh signaled her defeat, which, to be fair, was usually easy to earn; she wasn’t keen on wasting her time arguing. Not with someone as stubborn as Kelly, at least. “How much reserves to we have?”

“Enough fuel for… another week of nonstop flight. Don’t worry, I’ll do all of our maintenance myself until we get our next delivery, promise.”

“Two beds.”

“No other way, Mikky.”

Another sigh. “Fine. Find that specialist, too. I’m tired.”

Even before Miekka had finished, Kelly had already pulled out her phone and began to tap away at it, doing just that. “I can’t believe you’re trusting me to hire our help again, remember last time?”

“I’m _hoping_ you’ll remember to run it by me,” Miekka mumbled back.

“Alright, alright.” There was a pause as Kelly stopped in her tracks to read something over, and with a click of her tongue, she grabbed Miekka by her arm and stopped her. “I think I found someone.”

“This is a dating app. For mercenaries.”

“Look at her business.”

“AvantGarde – wait, hold on Kelly. Please tell me you’re not going to flirt with her.”

“…I was only planning on a little bit of flirting.”

“ _Kelly_.”

“Listen, it’s a dating app!”

“Kelly. Why are you on a dating app.”

Bringing out a brief stint of awkwardness, Kelly gave a small shrug and brought her left hand to the back of her neck, nervously smiling. “Well, I figured that you’d want me out of your hair at some point so you could relax by yourself, yeah?”

Miekka could only roll her eyes.

“Anyways, says she’s a specialist with their electronics they sell, so I think she could likely help with the radio. Besides, if she says no, I’ll find someone else and run’m by you too, right?”

“I can’t believe that you’re not only on that app, but you’re using it for work.”

“If I’m being real with you, Mikky? I think most of the weirdos on it do, including Vivian here.”

“…You realize you make it sound like it’s an app for prostitutes like that, right?”

“…I didn’t…”

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see some art I got commissioned of Kelly? Here's some done by my friend Gooders: https://twitter.com/Gooders008/status/1373092592800428040


End file.
